I would love to go to the Lethe
When this ship is ready to wreck,
Beyond the port of the Leith
While it stood still and erect.

Sailors and seafaring men
Are no strangers to such wreckage,
Capsized wasen I heard of in Zen
A ritual of the foregone age.

I but have no intentions to starve
In the waters unknown and a life,
Instead I'm destined to be carved
In the evergreen records for the time I'm alive.

I can see the damaged mast
And the young lads praying,
The old folks know that the doom is a must
In the business of seafaring.

I feel the deck in instant chaos,
The old wooden boards creaking .
And in a moment's time we will cross
The life in the ship which is sinking.

I will forget all not for being forgetful,
But after being bathed in the river
That is known to make the dead forgetful,
Of the life lead as a mortal , after I overcome the quiver.
©tezpallabdas